The Humorous Journal of Albus Dumbledore
by Loopy Leefy
Summary: Within this journal is many things; things the Hogwarts headmaster wanted to hide, things he wanted to share with the world. There's even insanity. It is unknown just how many secrets that Dumbledore hid away within this leather-bound book, and some are quite unexpected. And now those secrets are open to you. (Probably discontinued.)


**WARNING: There will be a lot of OOC-ness. But, it's supposed to be there, so please don't criticize it!**

**I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I would have more money than I knew what to do with, have to do public speaking (*Shivers*), and Harry Potter wouldn't be nearly as much fun to read.**

_The Day I Got You, Journal_

Hello, journal! My name is Albus Percival Too-Many-Middle-Names Dumbledore! I just got you from my friend, Gellert Grindelwald. I'm here to tell you my life story. Well, not really, but I'm going to tell you how me and Gellert became best buddies.

It all started after my mother, Kendra, died. I got a letter from home about it right in the middle of the school year! Later, when I got home, I was lonely and grieving and all that. Gellert Grindelwald, the great-nephew of Bathilda Bagshot, one of my neighbors in Godric's Hollow at the time and the author of _A History of Magic, _came to visit his great-aunt after being expelled from Durmstrang. As he was the same age as me, just as much of a genius, and I was lonely, we struck up a marvelous friendship! It's been one and a half months since we became friends, and I'm still sad over Mother's death. However, I never think about her anymore, since she is dead, and thinking about dead people is pointless. I'm still sad, though.

Anyway, I've got some siblings: Ariana and Aberforth. Ariana is a little insane, I think. Aberforth is nice, though. But he doesn't seem to like me very much. . .

Alright, enough dabbling in emotions and family matters! I have decided on a special system for the journal entries. The date will be posted at the top of the page, below that the entry, and below that, the farewell until the next entry. Under the farewell, there will be a P.S. Underneath the entry, there will be an update on what titles I possess.

Current titles: Well, I don't feel like telling all of them to you, so I won't.

I'll write in you later, journal! Until then.

P.S. Forgive me if I gave you or will give you some false information now or in the future, I literally went insane after Mother's death.

-I-I-

_About Two Weeks After Last Entry_

I am afraid that Ariana died. This tragic incident has caused me to go even more insane, sadly enough, and has also caused Gellert and I to part ways. Wait. . . let me reword that: My now-doubled insanity caused Gellert and I to part ways. I know, I know. Our goal of world domination- well, Muggle domination, really -will now only be his goal, as my insanity has caused me to start _actually liking_ Muggles and Muggle-borns, strangely enough. But, I will still keep you, journal, as a memory of the broken friendship of Gellert and I.

I invented some new words. Here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Oh, and before you ask, the exclamation marks at the end of them are part of the words. As I said in the P.S. of the previous entry, I am insane!

Ariana's funeral will be held in a few days. Very sad. Oh, and I forgot; this is how she died:

Gellert, Aberforth, and I all got into a fight. Absolutely dreadful how we humans do that; fights. . . well, anyway, Ariana tried to stop the fight, and one of our spells hit her. We honestly don't know who's, but we don't really want to find out because that would make the caster of the spell that hit her feel extremely guilty, and I'm afraid that if it was my spell, the burden of that weight would cause me to just become even more insane.

I am afraid that I am on the verge of tears from due to the previous paragraph dedicated to the not-so-detailed story of Ariana's death. This entry will soon end.

New title(s): Crazy Insane Bumblebee. Title given by: Gellert Grindelwald.

See you in a few days. -Albus Percival Too-Many-Middle-Names Dumbledore

P.S. I let out a very insane and girly giggle when I finished saying, 'As I said in the previous entry, I am insane!' Also, I just let out another insane giggle.

-I-I-

_Ariana's Funeral_

Before you ask, I am currently at Ariana's funeral. It seems that today, the date also states the location.

The pastor is saying the words of farewell to my dear sister as I write. Aberforth is glaring at me, and I'm not quite sure why. Oh. He just punched me in the nose. It's bleeding, and it hurts. I think it's broken. But I'll heal it up with magic as soon as I finish this entry.

I'm not really sure if Aberforth punched me because he blames me for Ariana's death, or because I was being disrespectful by writing in you during the funeral. It was probably both. That, or he's just as insane as I am. Oh, look at that; it's like I just quoted Luna Lovegood, except I replaced 'sane' with 'insane.' Hold on a moment. . . Luna Lovegood doesn't exist yet. Well, I guess insanity just gives you the benefit of knowing who's going to be born in the future! By the way, I just did another insane and girly giggle.

Well, Aberforth is yelling at me. I really wish he wasn't; I don't think Mother would be happy if she saw us fighting at a funeral. Well, I'm not really fighting; I'm just dodging all the punches Aberforth is throwing at me and hoping he won't break my nose again, even though it's already broken. It would hurt just so badly if it were punched again. . .

Well, I guess that's really all I have to say. I need to pack you up, journal, if I don't want to get another black eye. Well, that is to mention, Aberforth punched me in the eye directly after I finished the previous paragraph.

New title(s): Heartless Disrespectful-at-Funerals Sister-Killer. Title given by: Aberforth Dumbledore.

Well, I guess I'll write in you whenever I'll next write in you, journal! Bye! -Crazy Insane Bumblebee

P.S. You make a great substitute friend, journal.

-I-I-

_The Day I Made My Own Holiday_

It is official, journal. You are such a great friend, that I have decided to give you a name. Here it is: Your name is Journal.

Well, Journal, in honor of you, I made a new holiday. It's called, 'National Inanimate Objects Are Friends Day.' I've been spreading the word about it, in fact I'm doing it right now, but whenever I tell someone about it they stare at me as if I'm insane. Which, of course, I am.

Now, since it's National Inanimate Objects Are Friends Day, and you are supposed to give a present to you inanimate object friend on National Inanimate Objects Are Friends Day, I have decided to give you something that I'm too lazy to give to anyone else. My full name.

Here it is: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

It is very long, with too many middle names, and you don't have remember it unless you want to. But, as a journal, you have an excellent memory and I doubt you'll be forgetting anytime soon. Or ever. Yeah. . .

Oh, speaking of the word 'yeah,' I made it up! It means the same thing as 'yes,' and it's already become quite popular! Only in the British wizarding world, though. But, I know for a fact, since I know the future because of my insanity, that a British wizard in the future will travel to all over the place and introduce the word to foreign wizarding communities, along with Muggles, and then other countries as well as Britain will take credit for the invention of the word 'yeah' instead of me. But I don't mind. I've already made some great accomplishments, and I will make more of them in the future.

Anyways, happy National Inanimate Objects Are Friends Day! I'll have to get going now; I'm going to accidentally meet Nicolas Flamel tomorrow, and I have to be prepared!

New title(s): Insane Fake-Holiday Maker. Title given by: A random person I told about National Inanimate Objects Are Friends Day.

I'll write in you tomorrow while meeting Nicolas, Journal. Until then! -Heartless Disrespectful-at-Funerals Sister-Killer

P.S. I can't remember my real name.

-I-I-

_The Day of Meeting Nicolas Flamel_

I forgot to mention it last entry, but Aberforth and I parted ways after Ariana's funeral. To be entirely honest, I only agreed to parting because I didn't want a broken nose again, but he seemed to truthfully not want to be around me anymore. A real pity. I was planning on buying him some ice-cream the day after the funeral. although, I'm not entirely sure if ice-cream exists yet. I'll have to research that.

Anyways, I'm walking down the street right now. People are staring- I guess it is rather strange to see a man walking around without looking where he is going and writing in a journal -so I think I'll stop at the Leaky Cauldron.

Alright. I'm sitting in the Leaky Cauldron now, and I've just ordered a firewhiskey. I wish you could have some, Journal, but you would die if you did. Not that you're actually alive. I mean, you're an inanimate object! But you're still my best friend. I'll just describe what firewhiskey is like to you.

It's alcoholic, and it tastes and feels just like firewhiskey.

Nicolas just sat down next to me. He looks a little dejected. Probably because he's about five hundred years old, and he only has one friend, and that's his wife. He could do with some cheering up. I should give him a journal.

He's staring at me. Oh, he just asked if I am writing in a diary. I just told him yes, that you are a journal, my best friend, and that your name is Journal. He's laughing now. Looks like I successfully cheered him up.

He just asked me what my name is. I had to go back to the last entry to check. He says he's heard of me before. Unsurprising. I've got lots of titles. Not nearly as many as I'll have in the future, but I still have one or two.

He just told me his name. I already knew what it was, but I'm pretending not to. I just said it was nice to meet him, and that I had heard of him, and that I've always wanted to meet him. He chuckled and said that lots of people he meets say that. We're starting a nice conversation. He just asked why I'm still writing in you. I told him that I like to record things that happen to me.

He's peeking at you over my shoulder now. He just snickered for some reason, I don't know why. Oh, he's just given me a new title. Hm.

He's just asked if I'm interested in alchemy. I said yes, and I've always wondered what it would be like working with him. He laughed (he seems to do that a lot) and said that he could give me a tour of his lab or whatever he called it sometime. I said that would be wonderful. We're arranging for the meeting for the tour now.

As I predicted, the tour will be this Friday, because that's the only day I let myself be sane. Or, as close to sane as I can get. Nicolas and I both need to get back to our homes now. I'll be finishing this entry.

New title(s): Girly Writing-in-Journal Funny Man. Title given by: Nicolas Flamel.

Well, I'll write again on the day of the tour. Until then! -Insane Fake-Holiday Maker

P.S. This is my longest entry so far. I hope you don't feel too full, eating too many words in one entry might not be healthy for you.

-I-I-

_A Tour of Nicolas' Lab-Thing_

I've just arrived at Nicolas' house. It looks a lot like much smaller version of Buckingham Palace. Mansion-sized instead of palace-sized, you know. And without any guards.

I danced to the door- literally -and knocked. Nicolas came and answered it. He said hello, and to come inside.

The inside of his house looks almost exactly the same as the outside. The only difference is that the inside looks like the inside of a house, and it's painted pink instead of red, and there's couches, and a lot of rooms, and flowers, and it smells like old people. And also, the inside has a floor and a ceiling, and the outside has a base and a roof.

Nicolas just introduced me to his wife, Perenelle. I'm not sure if I spelled her name right. If I did, then I have only one comment on it: It's got a lot of Es.

We're heading down to the basement now. That's where Nicolas' lab-thing is, you see. There's a special lock on the lab-thing's door. It's enchanted, and it seems that you have to be over two hundred years old to open it. That's interesting. I wonder if I'll ever be that old?

We're in the lab-thing. I've never seen such a place that's so much like a mix between Muggle chemistry room and a potions classroom. There are cauldrons, and ingredients, and and all sorts of Muggle chemistry tools. Arthur Weasley would be so interested. Oh, I did it again; Arthur Weasley doesn't exist yet.

Nicolas is showing me some of the Muggle chemistry things. Haha, look at that, he just exploded a spoonful of some kind of pink liquid in his own face. I've never seen anything so hilarious in my life. I'm laughing now.

We're almost done with the tour. It was very interesting, I got to learn about some of the special techniques that Nicolas uses. It's not a wonder that he managed to create a Sorcerer's Stone; he's very talented.

We're back in the living room now. It turns out Perenelle was having a house elf bake biscuits* while we were in the lab-thing, and we're eating them now. They taste like lemon drops, which are a kind of Muggle sweet that haven't been invented yet. He knew he was going to be rather fond of them when they were invented, though.

We're exchanging stories now. Apparently Nicolas broke into his father's alchemy lab-thing when he was nine years old, and his father found him the next morning completely drowned in books. It's really a rather funny story when you hear the whole thing.

I've been here for a few hours now, and I've just told the Flamels that I need to get going. They're saying goodbye, and that I can come back and consume as many biscuits as I like.

I've left now; just disapparated to my current residence. I think I'll end this entry now.

New title(s): Biscuit Consumer. Title given by: Perenelle Flamel.

I guess I'll be writing whenever I'll next be writing. -Girly Writing-in-Journal Funny Man

P.S. I find it rather hilarious that almost everything in the Flamel household is pink.

-I-I-

_The Day Nicolas and I Become Official Alchemy Partners_

Nicolas and I have been working together on alchemy for a little while now. Five months, to be exact, and I have consumed at least seventy biscuits. (I even tested a few new recipes.) Recently we have been working on a rather complicated and important project for the Ministry. As a matter of fact, we just finished it earlier this morning at around nine 'o clock. We're going to present it to them in a few minutes.

The Minister is coming in now. There's an alchemist behind him, one that works for the Ministry. He's an expert. His name is Albert Blunderbag. I almost laughed out loud when we were introduced a couple months ago, his last name is so funny!

I always forget the Minister's name. But it's hard not to remember what he looks like. He's really, really thin, with a huge blob of brown hair on his head. His face reminds me an awful lot about a doll that Ariana had, as in it is very stare-off-into-space and looks like it has been fixed into a never-ending smile. Also, his face is really pale. Like candle wax. With brown fire on top. Except, brown fire doesn't make sense. Maybe if his hair was red. . . like Arthur Weasley's will be.

Ah, well, for someone insane, like me, it doesn't really matter. After all, there might be brown fire somewhere in the world and I wouldn't believe it simply because I hadn't seen it. That is human nature, after all.

We- well, more like just Nicolas -are showing the bottle of dragon-pox cure to the Minister and Albert. Albert just called a woman into the room. . . hm. She's hump-backed and only has one eye. . . creepy. And she looks like she has dragon-pox.

The alchemist is testing the cure on the woman. I have full confidence that the cure will work, but the ministry always wants proof. Heh, if the cure doesn't work, which I highly doubt, then the woman will die. The Ministry would go to such lengths. Although, I do suppose that one for all is better than all for one in the case of sickness, isn't it?

I can see that the woman is already cured. She's practically fainting with relief and happiness at the moment. The Minister and the alchemist both look very pleased.

The Minister is congratulating us at the moment. I know that in a few more minutes, he will ask if Nicolas and I want to become partners.

Yep. He just did. Oh, 'yep' is another word that I invented that had the same meaning as 'yes.'

Nicolas and I just accepted the offer. It came as no surprise to me, but Nicolas seemed to be rather startled. I think that he already considered us partners.

I think I'll be ending this entry soon. The Minister just asked why I'm writing in you, Journal. I told him the same thing I told Nicolas when he first asked that question. He's looking at me like I'm insane. Well, I am insane, but it does get rather annoying sometimes when people stare at my like that.

New title(s): Partner of the Old Guy. Title given by: Albert Blunderbag.

Well, I'll write another time, Journal. Right now, I just need to hope the Minister will stop staring. -Biscuit Consumer

P.S. There will be a mix-up in which it is thought that the witch who was cured of dragon-pox will be thought to have been the inventor of the cure to dragon-pox instead of Nicolas and I. By the way, her name is Gunhilda of Gorsemoor.

-I-I-

_A New Journal Idea_

Today, I got a new idea. You know how people can't stutter in journals, right Journal? Well, I realized that, since I'm insane, I am permitted to stutter in my entries! Amazing, isn't it? It's even better than the invention of National Inanimate Objects Are Friends Day! Absolutely incredible! And I will do it. After all, I've never stuttered in a journal before. I'm going to practice now, using the day I found the blood I used to discover the twelve uses of dragon blood. Which is today. Actually, I'm going to find the dragon blood in just a few minutes. I'll be telling the story of it now.

I am walking through the mountains on my way to collect some potion and alchemy supplies. You see, Nicolas and I have just run out of ingredients. Used it all up on a failed project, sadly enough.

Well, I'm walking by a cave now. It looks dark. There's something shiny in it, too! I think it's

Ouch! I just tripped over something. . . oh, it's a dragon tail. That means dragon. And that means that I don't get to finish the previous paragraph until I'm done fleeing from the dragon.

Uh-oh. I-I think it just stepped on something sharp. It looks really, really mad now. Or maybe it's insane like me? Nope, I see blood coming out of it's paw. Poor thing. Oh, I forgot to tell you, Journal; 'nope' is another word I made up!

Anyway, back to the point. The dragon is glaring at me now. It kind of reminds me of Aberforth, because I think it blames me for it's injury.

It's prowling towards me now. I better dodge. Although, come to think of it, it would be a good Idea to collect some of the blood that came from it's paw. I still need to discover the twelve uses of dragon blood, after all.

I'm dodging the dragon now. It's fast, but luckily the failed project Nicolas and I made turned out to give speed, and I drank some of it before I set out just in case. Alright, let me see. . . I need a vial. There should be several in my bag. Oh, wait a second; the dragon's coming back. Well, just in case I die, I'll give you my will, Journal.

My will: All my words belong to you, Journal. And my handwriting. And my thoughts. And my history. My research goes to Nicolas, of course; I mean, who else? If I left it to you, no doubt someone would find you sometime in the future and take the research for themselves. And I can't allow that, now can I? The person would have to be subjected to the Elixir of Life as a punishment.

Next, I leave all my possessions, including my house, my positions in the Ministry and such, my insanity, and you to Aberforth. All except my wand, that is. I leave my wand in the possession of Gellert; I know he will need an extra one if he is to achieve his goal of Muggle and wizarding world domination. That is my will.

I have collected the dragon blood, and there seems to be quite enough for be to test to find the twelve uses of it. I am currently running from the scene of my near death at top speed; I'd say that's about one million miles per hour. And speaking of near death, it turns out I didn't die after all; I'll have to scribble that out sometime later. Although, I'll never get to doing it. And I only know that because I am insane, as I have said many times before.

I forgot to end the paragraph on the previous page that I didn't finish earlier. I guess Ill do it now: As I was saying, there's something shiny in the cave! It looks like gold. Now that I think about it, it probably _was_ gold; I mean, there was a dragon over there! And it was a really scary dragon, too, now that I take the time to notice it.

I'm back at Nicolas' house. I think I'll end this entry now.

New titles: Insane Trespassing-on-Territory Blood Stealer. Title given by: The dragon I encountered.

Well, next entry I will write of the twelve uses of dragon blood! I guess I'll see you then! -Partner of the Old Guy

P.S. I don't know how, but I understood what the dragon was saying when it was talking perfectly. Must be another benefit to being insane. I find there are a lot of those; Aberforth will be happy when he inherits my insanity after I die. Oh, and I don't think the journal-stuttering works, so I won't do it anymore. I did only stutter once, after all.

**Well, there it is! Hope you liked it! It will get funnier as it goes on. The next chapter will involve entry number nine, which will be both very long and funny.**

***If you are American or something like that, you will know 'biscuits' as 'cookies.'**

**Review, please! Constructive criticism is welcome. Oh, and as a final note, you might be able to expect regular updates.**

**~leefpool**


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